


Var Hellathen

by PerserveranceNotLOVE



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Minor The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:36:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerserveranceNotLOVE/pseuds/PerserveranceNotLOVE
Summary: We fight in so many ways against every day's attempts to break us. This is our noble struggle against the tide that threatens to haul us under the waves, and against an enemy with no face or name that threw us into a...rather odd situation.If only we could stop laughing.Warning! Several SI OCs, one is mine and another is a friend's, and we may be adding another friend to this fucktruck of misery and hilarity. Also, v strong language.





	1. 'Cosplayers' and Spilled Drinks

**Author's Note:**

> An'daran atish'an, ara ni! 
> 
> I dearly hope you enjoy this first chapter of Var Hellathen, or "Our Noble Struggle". Also, just to get it out of the way, I do not nor will I ever own any of the Dragon Age games or any characters or plots that are contained within them. I do however own my OC. 
> 
> Also, this amazing person, Alyssia Lavellan from the Dragon Age Amino, helped me write some of this! Shoutout to her amazing face!  
⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇  
http://aminoapps.com/p/92nijd
> 
> Now, without further ado, onto the fic!

Another yawn escapes, almost violently shaking me as I stare out into the empty restaurant. There's little else to do besides cleaning the bathrooms, and Eru knows that if I try to run back and clean them then someone will come in while I'm back there. 

My coworker speaks through the window into the kitchen, "I think that's like the ninth time now that you've yawned. Stop it, it's making me tired just watching you."

I snort, returning the teasing line with a quick, "The only way I can stop is to go pass out. Wanna try running both back and front by yourself?"

He laughs, "Nah, I'm good. Had enough of that with Chrissy."

That pulls a snicker from me, "Oh yeah, didn't she make yo- Son of a fu-uuuuudging biscuit. Great save, me."

He laughs again, louder and longer. For my part, I'm grumpily staring outside where I see a party of no less than 10 people about to come in. I sigh and quickly get to work rearranging a table so that by the time they come in, I've made a table of 14 out of our two bigger tables. They enter just as I plaster on my big customer smile that never fails to make people think of me as a sweet little southern girl.

"Hello and welcome to Reece's! Will y'all be eating in with us today, or grabbing something to go?" I chirp, putting a peppy and happy look in my eyes. It's all about the eyes, ya know. If they see a smile on your face but dread in your eyes, they know what's up.

The man in the front gives me a large, gleaming grin, "We'll be dining in this lovely place today, my lady."

I do my damndest to not allow the twitch I feel inside show on the outside, "Ah, wonderful then! We have this table right here prepped for such a large party."

Everyone sits and I turn to get the menus, silverware, and straws. Returning to the table, something feels...odd about them. Most of them wear a hood, except for.... Except for a large, grey skinned, horned man. 

I can't stop the snort that escapes, which draws their attention to me, but I just wave it off with a sheepish, "Sorry, something in my throat. Uh, so, what to drink for y'all?"

Pretty much all of them say water, except for one lady who requests tea. 

I smile at her, "Sure thing, sweet or unsweet?" 

The question draws several questioning looks from the group, and the rich, cultured voice of the woman says, "Make it sweet, darling, I'm eager to try what passes as tea here."

This time, I can't help the twitch. Iron Bull lookalike snorts, probably noticing.

I dutifully walk away, and begin filling their drinks, noting that there are actually a total of 13 people based on how many drinks there are. Finally, I get the drinks all on trays and begin distributing them. When I place the cup of sweet tea in front of the woman who ordered it, most eyes are drawn to her and the cup. And I gotta admit, It's pretty surreal to see 13 people stare at a glass of sweet tea like it's some otherworldly elixir. 

I sigh inwardly before saying aloud, "Do y'all know what y'all would like to eat, or still need a bit?"

A shorter man on the end gives me a thumbs up, "We almost have it sorted, just waiting on Chuckles and Sparkles to make their decisions." 

The low and gravelly tone instantly puts a more genuine smile on my face, not just because some of my favorite customers talk with a voice like that but also because it reminds me of Varric. Varric has always been one of my favorite characters, so in my exhaustion, I decide oversharing is a wise move.

"You know, you sound just like one of my favorite characters of all time besides Solas from Inquisition, Dorian from Inquisition…actually, just all of the inner circle from that game, hah! And Madara Uchiha from Naruto," I confess. 

Most of the tables pauses in their efforts to stare down a glass of tea to turn to stare me down.

"Solas, of all people, is someone's favorite? To the point they speak his name before mi- Dorian's? How interesting!" another hooded man speaks incredulously.

I hum, "Yeah, technically I'm biased, though. I teach elvhen online under a pseudonym, so gotta know my shit about one of the only two people we ever hear speak the darn language."

"Who is the other?" another hooded man asks lowly, voice just quiet enough that I only barely make out a gentle English accent. 

"Abelas, the sentinel of Mythal speaks it somewhat. You wouldn't believe the fights the fandom got into before we figured out that 'venavis' means something like 'halt'," I chuckle, "He had half of us thinking it meant something like 'fuck off'. Wait, sorry, my bad, I shouldn't curse in front of y'all. Could I take y'alls food order?"

I quickly take their order, most of them just getting a salad bar and personal pizza. One gets a pot roast potato, another gets stuffed shells, and the man who asked about Abelas gets an all you can eat salad, probably because the bowls for the one trip are kinda small.

I quickly take the ticket back to the kitchen, getting a stink eye from my co-worker for giving him a 10 pizza order. When I get back into the dining room, I quickly see something has gone very wrong. The sweet tea is spilled on the floor, several people are laughing or making exasperated sounds, one of the cackling people is missing a fork which lay beside the upturned cup, and the woman who ordered it is making a disgusted sound as she uses a napkin to daintily wipe up the table in front of her. I heave a sigh and retrieve the mop bucket, mop, and wet floor sign before trudging over there to clean it up. 

I've only just put a mop to the floor when she calls to me, rather disdainfully I might add, "Darling, that is not tea. That is sugary water. May I request some tea?"

I give a sigh quietly before looking up at her with my smile just a bit too wide to be entirely sincere, "Unfortunately, ma'am, that is the only tea we have. Water?" 

The woman's distasteful expression at my suggestion, or perhaps my too wide smile, causes me to grit my teeth for a moment before I force myself to relax. She then gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "I suppose that would be fine, my dear," She says finally, her tone vaguely condescending.

I finish mopping quickly and take the upturned cup from the table, making a mental note to grab more napkins for the woman despite my own irritation with her condescending tone. I walk quickly away from the table, forcing myself to keep to the quick pace of a waitress instead of the faster one I want to use to get away from the woman.

It only takes another minute for the pizzas to be ready, and I help my co-worker pull them from the ovens while he prepares the stuffed shells and pot roast potato. Slowly, I bring them all out, not even trying to take more than three at a time since my normal balance is that of a baby hippopotamus. 

As I set the last pizza down, the young man that had initially greeted me and referred to me as 'my lady' leans towards me. Realizing that he intends to speak to me, I turn my full attention to him immediately. 

He flashes a bright grin at me, "So, you're a big fan of this 'Inquisition', eh? Tell me, what is your favorite part of it?"

My co-worker, who just set the stuffed shells and pot roast potato down, groans theatrically, "Don't get her started, her and those roommates of hers are totally nuts over it. If I have to listen to them rant about how cute 'adoribull' and 'solavellan' is one more time, I might lose it." 

I snort at him, "The fact that you know what those mean and also have joined in our rants before renders your argument null and void."

"And what, pray tell, is Adoribull?" the man that had earlier questioned my choice in favorite character pipes up.

"Adoribull is Dorian's and Bull's ship name," I explain.

Half the table starts chuckling and, in the case of one of the most petite girls at the table, cackling.

The guy that had initially asked me what I think of Inquisition clears his throat and the whole table immediately goes mostly silent, impressing me with his obvious command of the group. He arches a brow at me, bidding me to answer his previous question.

I shrug, "Depends how someone plays it. I always play a female Dalish elf, and I try to choose kind and compassionate responses. I know my friend enjoys playing a more sarcastic route. And there's a lot of people out there that play it in an asshole way, like insisting that they're always right, pushing away the companions, and generally just being a bad leader. And of course, who you choose to romance reflects that as well."

"So, you get to be the Inquisitor and choose to lead the Inquisition any way you want?" he asks.

I raise an eyebrow. They look like cosplayers but I guess this guy is newer. "Well, yeah. I mean, to an extent anyways. A few things are set in stone from the beginning but there are hundreds, maybe thousands of options you choose from that builds up who your character is and what the Inquisition is about...and of course, how it ends." 

This, for some reason, captures their attention immediately. They all straighten to varying degrees, and the man who I've been chatting with queries softly, "You…know how it all ends? You've seen to the end of the game?"

Even in my exhausted state, I am by nature a very rational, logical person. Little things start adding up piece by piece. Most people would be proud of their cosplay, most of these guys seem to be hiding it. They all seem to be unaware of the things I'm saying, and most Solas cosplayers would have immediately jumped up when I mentioned him earlier. Their mannerisms, their reactions, even their words, none of it adds up. Not if they're actual cosplayers.

I narrow my eyes. So does the Iron Bull. 

Hallucinations? No, my co-worker saw and interacted with them. They may still be cosplayers, just acting in character...but…

Quick as I can, I reach forward and rip the hood off the closest person besides maybe-quizzy.


	2. Realization and Amazing Hugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up, chickpeas? 
> 
> Happy to see all of y'all back for a new chapter of VH! 💚

My hand grasps the soft black hood of the nearest person to the "Inquisitor Cosplayer", the quick movements heralded by a clatter of chairs falling to the floor as several people spring to their feet. I pull the hood, revealing the face of the one who had earlier queried about Abelas. Grey-blue eyes glance up at me and catch my gaze, even as I take in the long, elegantly pointed ears, softly dumped chin, and that weird scar in his eyebrow that literally none of the fandom knows the origins of. My hand falls slack, as does my jaw.

A hand falls on my shoulder and I reflexively flinch away from the contact, taking a healthy step away from everyone at the table. Everyone who hadn't previously stood takes this opportunity to do so now as they shed their cloaks, revealing familiar face after familiar face.

I put my face in my hands, breathing in for 5 seconds, holding it for a bit, then exhaling in a long breath. I may be certifiably insane now. There is no way in hell or heaven that the fucking Inner Circle of the Inquisition is in my workplace. 

Wait.

I start giggling hysterically, much to the voiced concerns of the people I'm currently having a crisis over. I fucking made pizza, of all the foods in the world, for the fucking Inner Circle. I sassed fucking Madame de Fer herself. _ I told a native speaker of the elven language, fucking Fen'Harel himself, that I teach elven. _

For some damnable reason, the first thing my mouth and brain agree to say amidst the giggling is, "Do you guys even have this world's money to pay for your food?"

There's pure silence after the question, which causes my hysterics to redouble. Of course not, they have sovereigns, silvers, and coppers instead of dollars or euros or yen or whatever.

Despite my earlier attempts to keep calm via breathing exercises, I absently recognize that I'm veering a little dangerously towards a full fledged panic attack. That….would not be good for my current situation, would it?

A hand gently presses into the small of my back, and a soft voice with a boyish lilt murmurs to me, "Smothering, choking panic welling up inside. 'They can't be real, I'm going crazy.' You like us, but you don't think of us as real people, but we are. You want to help, help us, help him, but the terror seeps back into your brain. 'I could try but what if-'"

"Thank you, Cole, but that's enough," I manage to choke out, "That is not helping me right now."

"Oh." There's a rustle of clothes behind me as he shifts before speaking in a slightly bewildered tone, "It doesn't help you say, but my voice...it helps? You...like me? Would you like a hug?" 

I burst into more hysterics, wordlessly nodding. I'm swept into the most surreal hug of my entire life by the world's cutest spirit-boy ever.

Slowly, the hysterics subside. Mostly because of the rather comforting hold I'm currently ensconced in. When I'm finally breathing properly, I tap his arm to be let out, which he does immediately. The first person I see when I lift my gaze back up is my co-worker, who stares at me with his equivalent of a concerned look. I smile reassuringly at him, though it's apparently not all that convincing since his eyes narrow at me. 

He speaks up with his normal, lazy drawl, "Oops, looks like we ran out of dough. At least it's only 30 minutes till close. I turned off the open sign and locked the door."

My reassuring smile falls into a relieved grimace, "Ma serannas, I don't know what I would do without you. And I'm sorry for falling to bits in a slight existential crisis moment."

He snorts, "Just get everything closed up. I'll take care of those idiots' ticket, you just worry about getting dining room shut down."

He slinks away to presumably do his own closing list as I take a deep breath in and face the current issue sitting in my dining room with my 'customer mode' face back on, "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you lot don't have a place to stay currently, what with your lack of appropriate money."

Face showing not just a little wariness at my mood switch, the Inquisitor nods slowly, "You are correct. We were planning to camp in the woods tonight."

A faint snort sounds from the kitchen. So he is still listening, wonderful. I breathe out a slow sigh, already knowing that I will end up regretting the idea my dumb brain has practically catapulted into the forefront of my thoughts.

My eyes wander over all of them. Most of them look wary or concerned, although a couple appear deceptively nonchalant. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes again as though to ward off a headache as I mutter, "I am so going to regret this. Jubilation may actually kill me." 

I blink open my eyes and drop my hand down before saying louder, "Okay, so you guys will be staying with me because otherwise I am going to feel like a horrible person for leaving you lot to deal with this world without any fucking clue what you're dealing with. Okay, that bit was supposed to be internalized but I'm fucking stressed because _ how the hell are you guys even- _You know what, no. I'm going to close up before I go into another fucking existential crisis. You guys are going to wait outside for me. I will be out in half an hour. Shoo."

At the end of my little rant, I give them a very pointed look. The Inquisitor has the gall to laugh and say, "Okay, you heard the lady, move it." He turns to me and in a much quieter voice, "I am very sorry for the shock dealt to you." 

I wave off the apology with yet another sigh, "Don't worry about it. I'm fine now. Just...just go wait."

He smiles apologetically and acquiesces with a small bow before heading out the front door to wait with the others. As soon as the door shuts behind him, I quickly snatch my phone from my pocket and type out a quick message to my friends. Once my phone is safely back in my pocket, I reach up to rub my temple, already feeling a huge headache about to onset due to all of this chaos. 


	3. Introductions and Chairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sup, chickpeas? 
> 
> Got some credit to dish out in the end notes!
> 
> Enjoy the chappie! 💚

"So, are you gonna be alright going home with those goons?" 

The drawling voice of my co-worker snaps me out of my slight daze as we step out of the back door. 

I hum a bit, before pointing out, "You never really show much concern about me walking home with people. What's the big deal now?"

He gives a slight huff, though it sounds more amused than irritated, "Fine then, don't let me be concerned. Good luck with them. See you in three days."

Without any further delay, he ambles along to his car and slips in. I sigh before turning and trudging around the side of the building to meet the others at the front, since we always go out the back when locking up for the night.

As I round the corner, I see that they have decided to sit at the variety of little tables and benches outside both my and the neighboring restaurant. I offer a small smile to a customer heading into the 24-hour burger place before turning to the very people that have plagued my mind for the last hour. 

"Y'all ready to head out?" I query, crossing my arms out of pure habit.

The Inquisitor stands up immediately, a bright grin on his face, "Of course. Lead the way, my lady." 

I can't stop the grimace that crosses my face, "Yeah, please don't call me that. It's sweet and all but I can't help but picture you with a fedora and katana every time you say it."

Cole tilts his head from where he stands near Varric, "Why is a 'nice guy' a bad thing?"

A snort escapes me, "There's nothing wrong with a nice guy, Cole. It's when it's a Nice Guy, the kind that 'defends maidens' and expect sex in return, that it's a a bad thing." 

The thought floats across my mind that my life has become so surreal. I sassed Madame de Fer, I hugged a spirit-boy assassin, and now I'm teaching said spirit-boy about a type of fuckboy. 

The Inquisitor hums, "Some things are rather common, then. We have many of those in our world, though they don't often try that around the Inquisition."

I arch an eyebrow, "Perhaps, but how many times do your own people try shit like that and it doesn't get reported? Remember, most harassment incidences don't get reported due in large part to the shame felt by the victim for supposedly 'inviting the harassment'."

A pensive look crosses his eyes, and he murmers, "You have a point."

Feeling a little bad now for bringing down the mood, I attempt a cheerful grin, "I'm sure you do everything you can to help, there's only so much one man can do, even the Inquisitor. Actually, on that note, what's your name? The game has a human male's base name as Maxwell Trevelyan, but you don't strike me as a Maxwell."

A small, roguish smirk appears on his lips. He holds his hand out, which I take after a moment of confusion. In one suave, sweeping motion, he gives a graceful bow which ends in his lips hovering centimeters above the back of my hand and his eyes peering up at me with a mischievous twinkle, "How rude of me to forget introducing myself. I am Seraphim Sephtis, leader of the Inquisition and so-called 'Herald of Andraste'."

I raise an eyebrow, slightly impressed by the smoothness of the gesture, "Savhalla, ara tuast'ni. My name is Izzy, it's nice to formally meet you. But we should really get going before it gets super late." With that, I pull my hand from his and turn, beginning the trek home. I can hear many footsteps behind me, so I know they're following as I round the corner and cross the street.

Footsteps slowly pull up next to me, and I glance over to see Solas in step with me. 

He glances over and offers me a small smile, "En'an'sal'en, thu ea?"

Recognizing the small test for what it is, I obligingly reply, "Su tas ma. Ame....te'son. I'na?"

Solas tilts his head, "Ame son. How much of the language of Elvhen do you know?"

I shrug, "Eh, enough to get by. A lot of small phrases, all of the pronouns because I make a habit of memorizing pronouns of languages I like, and conjugation. Also, a small list of words, probably no more that a hundred or so. Basically, not enough to be fluent."

"You said you teach it," Solas points out with a frown, "Why do you teach a language you are not fluent in?"

I shrug again, "Because no one else does? Look, the only guy that actually tried to figure out the language didn't exactly write the knowledge in easy to digest lessons. All I do is take some stuff he found out, take some stuff that makes sense based on the information we have, then regurgitate that in easy to learn bits for everyone who wants to learn it."

His frown deepens, "There is no information on the language, even in this world where your people seem to know a great deal of Thedas?"

I pause, "I guess that is weird, huh. Well, I mean, you could help us. Ya know, teach us the real deal. I sure as shit would listen."

Solas' frown abated slightly, obviously considering my point as he falls silent. A few minutes later, I break the silence, "What does Venavis mean?" 

He actually snorts, startled at the sudden question, "It means exactly what you think. It is a way to say 'Halt', a rather rude way of saying such."

I grin towards him, "So, it's basically telling someone to 'Fuck off'? Just without cursing?"

This pulls an actual laugh, quiet as it is, from him, and I instantly decide to spend my time pulling more of that from him. His laugh is definitely something I would love to hear again.

The rest of the walk passes rather quickly, the majority of them preferring to hang back and speak amongst themselves. Solas and I continue our conversation on the Elvhen language, him getting more animated the more we talk about his culture and people. For my part, I think it's adorable how much pride he takes in his people, even to the point where he's willing to pass a bit of knowledge of his language to a meer Shemlen just to see it survive.

We finally pass through the arch of trees that heralds the end of the walk, turning from pavement to gravel as we begin the quarter mile trek up to my house.

As we come into sight of my home, Varric gives a low whistle, "Damn, that's one big house."

It truly is, with three floors, all of which have 5+ rooms of decent sizes. Then there's even an attic and a small guest house behind the actual house itself. Honestly, with the sheer size of the damn thing as well as the almost 20 acres of land that technically belong to me as well, it should probably be called a manor instead of a house. It's also a major pain in the ass to keep clean and dust-free.

I laugh lightly, "Yeah, my great-gran's first husband had it built for her. Family stories say that she was so pretty that she had men lining up for her hand, so she just chose the richest one. He ended up dying of 'mysterious circumstances', and after the normal year of grieving as a widow, she married my great-pap. They gave it to gran when they passed, and she gave it to me. We have a bit of a matriarchal family, else it would have gone to my older cousin."

By the time my little story is done, we're at the doors. I twist open the handle and walk in, calling out, "Oi, get yo asses in the living room, we got guests. Bring Chloe and Snickers."

I usher the group into the living room and bid them to sit. Sera immediately lays out on the recliner, while Iron Bull takes up half the sofa sitting next to a rather squished Cass and Blackwall. Varric plops down on a wooden chair near the door, Leliana taking up position near him. The other two advisors stand near her. Cole just kinda hovers behind me, looking more than a little unsure. Vivienne sits primly on my normal chair in the corner, Dorian claiming Jubie's seat. Solas stays near me, probably just as concerned about Cole as I am. Cole does seem abnormally on edge. It may be the lack of a true Fade. Seraphim stands beside me, arms folded in front of him with a confident, assured posture.

It takes a few minutes for Jubie and Ciri to get downstairs, Jubie arriving first. She pops her head into the living room, holding my squirming pup in her arms, who she sets down almost immediately, and looking faintly exasperated, "Any reason for the 'I've randomly decided to walk home' text you…" She trails off as she comes into sight of our company.

I smile a little sheepishly, "Uh, surprise?"

She continues to stare for a minute before closing her eyes and pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, muttering, "I've fucking lost it. I've actually, officially gone bat shit insane. Izzy, please tell me that you see the Inquisition in our living room."

"What living room?" I joke, before sobering, "Yeah, I see them. You're not nuts, well, no more than usual."

She shoots me a  look of mild exasperation as she drops her hands. Cirilla chooses this moment to bound in with Snickers at her heels. 

"Mamae, babae, I found my-" Ciri stops, and I sigh. She's managed to find one of her favorite shirts, one that is as headache-inducingly colourful as my language on a bad day.

"Maker's breath, what is that?!" Dorian demands, straightening up where he sits in Jubie's spot. 

I say wryly, "That is a girl, Dorian."

At the same time, Jubie decides aloud, "Alright, if I'm going to deal with this bat shit crazy situation on top of all my other bat shit craziness.... Dorian, you're gonna have to get out of my spot." 

Cirilla, who had gone completely still, gives a strangled squeak sound that alarms her pup into barking loudly. I give her a concerned look, knowing how much of a major shock this is.

I barely register Jubie's bantering with Dorian as I keep an eye on Cirilla, who is obviously floundering to say or do something. 

Hoping to help a bit, I offer, "Ya know, you two are taking this way better than I did. I seriously was about two wrong moves away from a panic attack, but Cole hugged me better."

I can't stop the smug grin that spreads across my face at that last bit.

Jubie paused in her bantering with Dorian to shoot me a dirty look. "Now is not the time to brag, ara'len." Jubie then walked over to her chair and upended it dumping Dorian on the floor. The moment she put it back down, she vaulted over the back plopping down in her chair with a thump.

My gaze is drawn to the elvhen man near me when he lets out a small cough, obviously attempting to get my attention. When my eyes catch his, he arches one eyebrow with a silent question. For a moment, I'm utterly confused as I replay the conversation in my head to figure out what he's asking. 

My puzzled stare draws a small sigh from him before he pointedly says, "Ara'len?" 

I pause, my lips twitching in an attempt to stop myself from cackling. I'd totally forgotten to prepare the Inquisition for the household dynamics.

A small huff of a laugh manages to escape as I answer, "Ah, yes. Right. Meet Jubilation, aka Jubie, aka my wifey. Platonic wifey, anyways. And this is Cirilla, aka Ciri, aka our daughter. Non biologically. Not sure how that would work if she was, since she's a solid eight years older than me."

Cirilla's attention has been pulled to me by now, and she gives a small smile to our guests. Jubie has obviously decided not to give any more fucks as she merely waves half-heartedly in the general direction of where the bulk of them have decided to sit and stand.

I continue, "And I'm Izzy, if there are to be introductions."

Jubie snorts aloud from her position in her chair. So does the Inquisitor, actually. 

Cirilla speaks up, "I would've gone with Varric's line." Her voice drops into what is obviously a comical attempt at a man's voice, "Varric Tethras: rouge, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag-along."

I frown, "How would I have made that work? 'Izzy Murray: waitress, writer, and occasional dumbass?"

I hear another snort from Jubie's direction and a muttered, "Occasional, my ass." I flip her double birds for that comment.

Obviously trying to get everyone back on track, Seraphim clears his throat. The effect on his Inner Circle are immediate, their whole attention snaps to him. Jubie just kinda chills while Cirilla and I follow the Inquisition's lead, giving Seraphim our full attention. 

"We are truly grateful for your offer of shelter," he begins, "But we really do need to find a way home. As well as, we would appreciate any information you can give us about...how it all ends. You mentioned that there can be different outcomes before, Izzy?"

I grimace, "Misleading phrasing. There are several versions of the same outcome, but some things are supposedly set in stone."

I jolt as Leliana speaks up for the first time, "Supposedly?"

After getting over the shock of her suddenly coming back on my radar, I nod, "Yes, supposedly. The game leads one to believe that the ending that happens and the way it happens is absolutely inevitable. Banal nadas. I am a firm believer that there is always another way. If you don't like the options presented to you, there is always the choice to carve your own path."

Jubie speaks up, ever the voice of reason when I get carried away, "That can wait. Right now, we need to get these guys settled."

Cirilla pops up from where she had sit, a slightly distressed look on her face, "Oh, fenedhis! We haven't even gotten them any sort of snacks or drinks!" 

The quiet, choked cough from Solas causes me to laugh, "Ciri, calm down, I'm sure they aren't super concerned by our hosting skills. But Jubie is right, we need to get you lot settled. Okay, here's a frank question: are any of you guys currently 'getting some'? Like, doing the horizontal tango?"

Without any hesitation or fucks given, Iron Bull calls out, "I sure as shit am."

Dorian, who had apparently moved to stand near Vivienne when he was upturned from Jubie's seat, gains a light red flush to his tanned cheeks, "I suppose I am as well."

I nod, "Great, you two are taking the guest house then. Some of these walls can be thin, and I for one don't want to be woken up by someone getting railed at 3 in the morning."

Dorian lets out a strangled sound, while Bull just grins lasciviously towards him.

Absently, I notice that Cirilla has seemed to have snuck out, presumably to be a good hostess. "As for the rest of you, we have plenty of rooms in the main house. Uhh, I guess just pick one? Mark your name on your door somehow, I don't really care if you fuck up the doors, they're super old anyways. If you see something written or carved in a door, leave that room alone. There are three bathrooms, and a half one down here. Besides that, just stay outta the attic. It's got so much dusty old stuff that you'd probably end up with a dust bunny in your lungs just by stepping into the damn place."

"I'm adding the house rule of staying the fuck out of my chair!" Jubie added quickly. 

I sigh, "You and that damn chair…"

She sinks further into the chair, making herself comfy, "What? I'm possessive of my stuff. And you're one to talk, hypocrite, when was the last time you willingly let someone touch your desk?"

"That's totally different," I protest, "My desk has important papers all over it, someone could knock some down and lose them."

"And my chair has something important in it," Jubie retorts. 

I snort, "Rather vain, ara'lan."

This time, it's her that flips me double birds. Showing peak maturity, I stick my tongue out at her just as Cirilla comes back in, cheerfully holding a tray with cookies on it.

Seraphim sighs exasperatedly, "This...is definitely gonna be interesting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all got to meet Jubilation and Cirilla! As always, my amazing friend helped me write this, and Cirilla also helped me get her character just right! 
> 
> Check out Ciri's amazing face here!  
⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇  
https://archiveofourown.org/users/KakashiFan101  
http://aminoapps.com/p/vkomhr
> 
> Check out Jubie's amazing face here!  
⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇  
https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubilation_Lee  
http://aminoapps.com/p/92nijd
> 
> Ar lath se! <3
> 
> Translations:
> 
> En'an'sal'en: Blessings. (A greeting)  
Su tas ma.: To you as well.  
Thu ea?: How are you?   
Ame te'son/son.: I'm okay/well.  
Ara'lan: Wife (poetic variant)  
Ara'len: Husband (poetic variant)  
Mamae: Mother (archaic)  
Babae: Father (archaic)  
Fenedhis: lit. Wolf dick. (Used as a general curse, like if you stub your toe and screech 'dammit' or 'fuck')  
Banal nadas: Nothing is inevitable.


	4. Shopping and One Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops? Sorry its taken me so freaking long but I have been fighting both my work schedule and resulting after work laziness to get this and my Inktober shiz done. Not doing very well on either of those lol
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy! Or not! You do you! 💚

The days following the arrival of the Inquisition are wrought with chaos. 

Day one saw a new existential freakout from both myself and Jubie while Cirilla seemed to bury herself in her hosting skills, which heralded one of the biggest and most delicious breakfasts she's ever cooked.

Day two had us all scrambling to find things in the house for our guests to wear. This caused the discovery of a treasure trove of very dated, very dusty old dresses in one of the older bedrooms. Cirilla tried on a few before giving up due to the sheer workout it is to get any of the damn things on. 

And now we're on day three. Ciri is at work and Jubie is...somewhere in the house. At this point I think she's just holed up in her room until the world makes sense again. Meanwhile, I'm dealing with the small problem that is our clothing and food situation. Usually, Jubie and I are too busy to actually cook or attend any proper dinners, so Cirilla doesn't usually buy too much since we just get fast food or takeout. So that means that our food supply is rapidly dwindling with so many guests.

A grimace forms on my lips at the mere thought of shopping, but it must be done. Running through a mental list of our guests, and mentally laughing at 'choosing my party', I walk over to the stairwell and bellow up it, "Oi, I need Solas, Dorian, Cassandra, and Leliana. Anyone else that wants to come is welcome to, but we'll be walking a couple miles to go shopping."

I almost immediately hear a faint 'blegh' from Sera's room on the first floor. I laugh, before turning to the living room to grab my purse and shoes.

By the time I get my shoes laced up and stand, Solas and Dorian have already arrived in the living room with Vivienne close behind the two. I snort at the image of the three mages sticking together, despite their obvious difficulties working together. Don't get me wrong, they can fight at each other's side no problem. It's the personality clash that I refer to.

Leliana enters the room with a long stride, obviously eager to go out and see this world a little bit more, "Cassandra has requested to be allowed to remain, she is not all that...fond, shall we say, of shopping."

I raise an eyebrow, "Whatever floats her goat, I guess."

"Goat?" Dorian murmurs to Solas in confusion. Solas' lip twitches in an aborted smile.

I look around at everyone and grimace, "Well, none of you are going to fit in, but as long as you guys just claim to be cosplayers, you should be fine."

My eyes land on Solas and my grimace becomes more pronounced. I need to bring him along so that I can talk to him with a lower risk of being overheard, but the fact is that if any Solasmancer is out and about, they may start spewing stuff about Fen'Harel, the orb, and the Veil. That would be very bad. Very, very bad. I need to talk to him alone before that happens.

Deciding to shove those particular worries aside, I continue, "So, just remember. If anyone starts getting up in your grill, just refer them to me. Or play the Game and get them to fuck off. I don't care either way."

"What do half of the things you say even mean?" Dorian demands, "'Up in your grill'? 'Floats your goat'? The slang of this world is confounding!"

Vivienne sighs, "No need for dramatics, darling, I'm sure our esteemed hostess will teach us these things eventually."

Solas coughs into his hand as I raise an eyebrow. Even Leli glances over to Vivienne in amusement, but none of us call her out for her hypocrisy. 

There's a couple of heartbeats of awkward silence before I force a cheery smile on my face and declare, "Right, then, let's be off!"

Even though I have arguably the most reasonable of the lot of them with me, it's still like herding cats just to get them all out the door and on track to town without wandering off every time someone sees something cool. Surprisingly, Leliana is actually the worst about this. It seems like as soon as we reach town, she's doing her absolute damndest to get information about this world while conveniently forgetting that we need to stick together. 

By the time we reach the store I'm looking for, I'm absolutely done with Leliana's antics, Dorian's sassy quips about my struggle, and Vivienne's disapproving hums every time I try to spark a conversation with Solas, as he's the only one acting any sort of sane right now. Which, thinking about it, is kinda hilarious.

The store itself is pretty huge, it's a two story clothing and arts shop that has a huge selection of all sorts of sizes and styles that the owners have collected through the years and some that have been sold to this place. 

As soon as the five of us enter the shop, I turn to them, "Okay. You guys will be helping me pick out clothes for everyone. Leliana, you grab Cullen and Josie some stuff. Dorian, you're in charge of Blackwall, Iron Bull, and Varric. Vivienne, focus on Seraphim and Cass. Solas, you have Cole and Sera. And since I absolutely do not trust your judgement when it comes to clothes for them, I'll be accompanying you, Solas. Any questions?"

Dorian raises an eyebrow, "Just one: how on earth did you decide who got who?"

I shrug, "Eh, just thought it up now. Which is how Solas got saddled with Sera. Anyways, men's section is towards the back of the top floor, women's is close to the stairwell, shoes and belts are near the art supplies, and, if I remember right, undergarments and socks are near the restrooms upstairs. Good luck."

Dorian immediately heads towards the stairs, Vivienne following more sedately. Leliana makes a beeline towards the shoes, no big surprise there. 

I glance to Solas with a small smile, "Well, let's get you taken care of. Where to first?"

I am like ninety percent certain that he's already seen through my weak excuse from earlier to stay near him, but he just nods in agreement and begins making his way to the male section. 

Meanwhile, I'm internally screeching. How in Eru's good name do I start this conversation? 'So, I know you're Fen'Harel and so does everybody that has played DAI!' That seems like an absolutely terrible idea. I have to bring this up subtly.

I am not a master of subtle. 

Before I can panic over it too much, I'm bumped into from behind. The harsh movement propels me into a rack of shirts, which I would have disappeared into completely if it weren't for Solas' hand catching the back of my shirt. The jolt from a sudden stop nearly makes me choke from being clotheslined by my own shirt hem.

He hauls me upwards until I'm back on my feet and rubbing my neck with a few shirts now dangling on my shoulders and head. He helps me pluck them off, giving a particularly ostentatious One Punch Man themed shirt a look of pure bafflement. Probably wondering what the hell it says, since it's written in kanji. Or why anyone would wear that shade of orange willingly. 

"Ea son, da'lan?" Solas queries with a slightly concerned look.

I nod back, eyes scanning the area for the douchebag that bumped me, "Ame son, ha'hren. Did you see who pushed me?"

He glances around the room before saying, "There are three others that are close enough to have done it and moved away. However, I did not see who had done it."

I huff, "Lovely. Some rude asshole…" I continue to mutter as he begins picking through the men's shirts. He pulls out yet another One Punch Man shirt and raises an eyebrow at it. 

Solas holds it up so I can see it better while asking, "Is this some hero of your people? I seem to keep finding his image."

I snort, "You could say that. Saitama is a fictional hero, he's so strong that he can destroy literally anything in one punch. That's why his moniker is 'One Punch Man'. I'll admit, I'm pretty curious where they got all of these from."

"That is a rather interesting premise for a hero," he murmurs, putting the shirt back, "Do your people value strength so much?"

I tilt my head, "Honestly, his whole shtick is more of a 'Work Hard' message. He only gained his incredible strength through constant, vigorous practice."

He hums thoughtfully as he eyes a shirt that is rather similar to his usual one. 

As Solas turns to rifle through more shirts, my mind turns back to my dilemma. How the hell do I even begin to bring this up? Should I wait? No, waiting will make it easier for someone else to tell him, I have to let him know myself. Maybe I could-

My thoughts are rudely interrupted by another push from behind. This time, I plant  one foot in front of me and use the  momentum to swing myself around and see who is doing this. I immediately narrow my eyes.

"The hell are you doing here, jackass?" I hiss, balling my hands into fists. 

The perpetrator smirks back at me, knowing that he's been caught this time, "What? I'm just shopping. How have you been, sweetheart?"

I am two seconds from jumping on him and ripping his fucking head off, but a hand presses down on my shoulder.

"I'm going to assume this is not a friend of yours, da'lan," Solas says,  his voice calm and expression neutral . 

"You assume correctly," I sneer towards the smug jerk standing in front of us, "This is Chase. He used to live with us, but he decided to become a massive fucking douchebag."

Chase raises an eyebrow, "Such a biased retelling. Myself and your wonderful… companion… became emotionally entangled. And then we split. Simple as that." 

The way he said 'companion' has me gritting my teeth, "You fucking told me that...you said some fucked up shit when you left, not just to me. I hope you know that Jubie is itching to kill you next time she sees you from what you said to Ciri."

Chase just shrugs, "I didn't say anything that was untrue. We both know that you and the others in that house are mentally-"

"If you finish that sentence, I will show you the meaning of 'unstable'," I warn, my body tensing with the need to knock Chase's teeth in .

"Atisha, da'lan," Solas murmurs to me. 

The sound pulls Chase's attention to him before he looks back to me, "And I see that you've gotten a replacement. Or is he your 'wifey's' little buddy? I can't imagine why he would go for any of you, but I guess since he's cosplaying-"

The moment I snap is the moment that Solas' grip on my shoulder slackens. I'm not sure why he lets go, nor do I care. All I care about is wiping that grin off Chase's face and ripping his tongue out.

I lunge for him and knock him over into the same rack of shirts he had knocked me into earlier. If I were still all here, I would have laughed at the irony as I rip the One Punch Man shirt from its hanger and shove it in his mouth before beginning to beat the shit out of him. I'm not sure how much time passes of me punching the everloving fuck out of him, but I come back to myself as I'm being dragged off of him. I let myself be pulled away as I eye his bloody and bruised face in satisfaction.

He scrambles to his feet, spitting blood on the ground and glowering at me.

"Nuva uralas telsyl na i'ga syl nyel laimem," I spit out towards him.

From behind me, I hear Dorian drawl out, "I am not quite sure what that means, but it may be in your best interest to leave immediately."

I realize Leliana is the one holding me when she mutters lowly to me, "Whatever he did, your revenge can wait for a less public forum. Believe me, we can do much more when not in sight or hearing."

Chase, I guess finally realizing that he's outnumbered, scowls towards me and slinks away, obviously trying to escape the attention of the shopkeeper, who is storming towards us. 

"What the devil is going on here?" she demands.

From Leliana's grip, which only lessens when Chase has disappeared completely, I answer, "Sorry, Miss Devon, Chase was pushing me around."

She tuts at me, "No excuse to knock over a rack, girl. Should've just grabbed a damn hanger. Help me get this put back up, then you get what you need and head home." 

I pull myself away from Leliana and help her get the rack back up. Once that's done, she hands me the One Punch Man shirt with an amused gleam in her eyes, "I won't sell a shirt with saliva on it, girl. You'll buy it."

I nod, unwilling to argue when she takes that tone. She pats my cheek approvingly, "Good girl. Now, make sure to get some more art supplies for you girls up there, I always love seeing what y'all make with them."

That actually reminds me, "Well, we're good on them for now, but do you have any of Lacey's pigments, and some carving supplies? We have some house guests that use them."

She gives me a smile that looks way too pleased, "Of course, baby. I'll put some up at the desk for you." 

She heads towards the arts section, and I sigh very loudly. I turn to my group and smile apologetically, "Sorry for that, guys. Did everyone get everything?" Solas is the only one who voices a negative, having been unable to get any female items for Sera. 

Leliana waves it off, "I thought to begin getting her some things. We should have everyone's items."

The lot of us go to the register, and Miss Devon's aide starts ringing us up. Miss Devon shows up halfway through that process with a bigass box. I frown at it, "Miss Devon, you know I live too far to cart that with me."

She waves off my concern, "Now did I say anything about you carrying it? Heavens no, child. You tell that Jubilation to come and pick it up later, I want to see her again."

I smile at her, "Yes, Miss Devon. Thanks."

Miss Rosalia Devon is one of my favorite people in this town. At first glance, she looks like a frail old lady, but she was my great-gran's best friend for a good reason. There's rumors around town that when my great-gran's first husband died 'mysteriously', Miss Devon helped my great-gran kill him and dispose of the evidence. Personally, I believe it. She's been my babysitter all my childhood, so I know her pretty well, and trust me when I say that she totally would do that for a friend or family member. 

She pats my cheek again and drops into her chair as the aide finishes ringing everything up. I grimace at the price but fish out the necessary amount and drop it into her hands. 

Solas and Dorian take the bulk of the bags, though I manage to snag a few and Leli carries her stuff while Vivienne seems content to allow us to carry everything. Once everyone has everything besides the big box of art stuff, we leave the store to walk back down the 2 mile length between here and my house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ea son, da'lan: are you well, little one?  
Ame son, ha'hren: I am well, elder  
Atisha: Calm/Peace  
Nuva uralas telsyl na i'ga syl nyel laimem: May nature strangle you with all the air you've wasted


End file.
